


Our Last Adventure

by Soaring_Ren (Robin_Knight)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Character Death, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 05:32:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10633263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Knight/pseuds/Soaring_Ren
Summary: Keith reflects on a life well spent.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [typical-doggo](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=typical-doggo).



It was a beautiful view.

The veranda overlooked the immaculate garden; flowerbeds lined the edges of the lawn, while a small pond was strategically placed within a far corner, and – even from the wooden chairs, lined with homemade blankets from Allura’s hands – Keith could see the koi fish swimming in aimless circles. The sun was caught just behind the neighbour’s roof, so that the shadows of the wind-vane cast intricate patterns across the freshly cut grass.

Keith reached out to touch Shiro’s hand. The organic limb was cool to the touch, limp upon the wooden armrest, and the blankets about his body – pulled up above his waist and tucked in at the sides – did little to make him look more comfortable. White hair fell about his face. It was stuck to his skin with sweat, while his eyes remained half-lidded and breaths came out in a broken and staggered rhythm, and Keith could only squeeze that hand tighter and pledge to be by his husband’s side until the very last moment. He would not leave Shiro.

“Coran will be by later,” whispered Keith.

He edged onto the arm of his seat, where he sat with legs apart. It was an awkward pose that made his joints ache from having sat for so long, but it enabled him to look down at those pale cheeks, and – each time Shiro grimaced – that scar across his features would jostle and move with a life of its own. Keith used both hands to hold onto Shiro’s, leaning so that Shiro wouldn’t be stretched or moved. He stroked loose patterns with his thumb. It was difficult to reconcile callused and wrinkled flesh with the toned and soft skin of youth.

“It’s weird, not aging and all.”

Shiro said nothing.

“Allura and Coran are the only ones who understand,” continued Keith. “It was bad enough when we lost Hunk; no one believes we were friends with him, because he was in his seventies and we were just . . . well . . . kids by their standards. Coran got all the sympathy. It’s easy to believe someone who looks middle-aged was close to him, but us -?”

Keith shook his head. He chanced a look out into the road, where he saw one of their neighbours walking her pedigree dogs with two perfect children in tow, and – as Keith smiled and raised a hand meekly – the woman did a small double-take and kept her head low, before she walked at a quicker pace with children muttering complaints. Keith slumped his shoulders, fully aware what it seemed like for someone who looked roughly seventeen to be romantically involved with the elderly man to whom he acted as a carer and guardian.

“I guess there’s downsides to being part-Galra, huh?” Keith sighed and furrowed his brow. “I always dreamed of growing old with you, but now I can’t even do that much. ‘Patience yields focus’, right, Shiro? Well, what does patience get me now. I can’t imagine life without you snoring beside me, or inspiring me with odd phrases, or just . . . well . . . _being_ there.”

. . . _Shiro laughed, as he spread their suits upon the bed. Keith looked with a frown, unsure about the matching red flowers in the lapels, and – as he felt his heart race and saw a stray balloon float by the window – he knew this would be the first day of the rest of their lives . . ._

“Do you remember our wedding? Pidge said it would be unlucky for us to see each before the wedding, but we ignored tradition and did things our way. It – It was more romantic that way; we bathed one another, dressed one another, and then said our own private vows before we went to the main ceremony. We only invited the Paladins, Coran and Allura. I remember Lance showered us in rice, while Allura took hundreds of photographs.

“Our last anniversary was pretty depressing, though. You kept forgetting that you – well – _forget_.” Keith squeezed the limp hand and blinked away tears. “You didn’t understand why Pidge was the only one celebrating with us, aside from Coran and Allura, and it was like living those deaths all over again. I kind of miss the old days, you know?”

. . . _Keith laughed, as Shiro grumbled._

_The older man closed the door with a loud bang. There was a twitch of his hand around the cane, as he struggled for balance and fought with his joints, and – as he breathed deep and made to move back to his seat – the door rang again. It was hard to be too annoyed. The children outside loved the holidays, while their costumes were so bright and creative. One had even dressed like their favourite Paladin, dying a white streak in their hair._

_Keith stood in the distance, arms folded across his chest. He watched as his husband opened the door with a forced smile, before seeing one of the children dressed as an alien with hands open in waiting, and – with a loud and sincere laugh – he reached out to ruffle their hair and gave them a king-sized chocolate bar from the pot by the door. The child’s eyes widened like saucers, before they jumped up and down in excitement, and their friends clamoured around for the expensive treats in turn. One spotted Keith and waved._

_‘Your son isn’t wearing a costume,’ she chirped._

_Keith looked down at the polished floorboards. It hurt a little to be assumed a relative, especially a son, but it was to be expected now Shiro was in his fifties and deep lines clung to the corners of his eyes and mouth. Shiro simply laughed all the more, before he corrected the child. The little girl frowned and told him that he was silly. A small hand held the chocolate bar in his direction, before she said in warm words that his son looked sad and needed the chocolate more. Keith raised a hand to his face to hide his tears . . ._

“Do you ever regret not having any children?”

Keith squeezed once more, as he fought the urge to touch his stomach. The biology of the Galra was no secret, but it was also no secret how Shiro loathed seeing Keith in pain, and so they planned to adopt and planned to give happiness to a child that needed some happiness in their life. Those plans had faded away over time; Keith went back to the Garrison to study, while Shiro gained promotion after promotion, and then their age-gap grew and grew.

There was a chill in the air. Shiro drew in one deep breath, made visible by how his chest heaved and his lips parted, and – as the breeze died away – those eyes closed and those cheeks paled, until he became completely still. Keith felt his lips tremble. His eyes grew misty with unshed tears. He let go of that hand, so that he could pull the blanket up to his husband’s chin and tucked it carefully around his shoulders, and placed a gentle kiss to his forehead with a soft touch. The head rolled to the side and stayed still.

Keith looked away, as he listened to the children laugh in the distance. A house nearby played music, as the scents of a barbeque drifted along the air, and a car honked its horn in the distance for some form of attention. Life carried on. The body of Shiro sat as a stark reminder of all that could have been, while the world continued unaware of the loss that took with it a part of Keith’s heart. He wanted one last kiss. One last hug.

_. . . ‘Keith, one day I won’t be here.’_

_Keith hissed and rolled over in bed. The older man lay upon his back; wrinkled and spotted arms were clasped over his chest, with the cybernetic one making the occasional whirring sound, while the white hair clung to his forehead with sweat. The sheets were entwined about his legs, which had lost some of their shape and definition from youth, and there were fewer stains about his stomach than there had been in youth. Keith clenched his behind._

_He smiled at how their sex life continued so strong, albeit with less frequency and smaller durations, and yet he hated how he could feel that heart – so weak, so fragile, so_ human _– patter manically beneath his open palm after every exertion. Keith nuzzled close to him, despising his youthful body more than anything else in existence. He hated how he aged. He hated being part Galra and seeing Shiro slip away from him more and more with every breath, and one day Shiro would be right: he would be gone._

_‘Let’s not talk about that now,’ said Keith . . ._

Shiro looked so at peace. It was impossible to know that the body was just an empty shell, at least at a mere glance, but Keith knew he would soon need to contact the authorities. The thought destroyed his last ounce of self-control; he collapsed to his knees and wept, wondering whether he could make that call, because this was all that was left of Shiro. Once they took him away, that would be that. He would have to say goodbye. They wouldn’t know how Shiro feared enclosed spaces or being left alone, they wouldn’t know . . .

Coran warned him about falling for a human. Everyone saw the inevitability, but Keith knew – without a shadow of doubt – he wouldn’t trade even a second of their lives for anything in the world. Shiro was his rock. The idea of living without him was impossible, but not so much so as the idea of having never known him or loved him. Keith raised a hand to his chest and clenched hard, as he broke into choked sobs. He smiled through his pain.

At least Shiro was finally at peace.

 

 


End file.
